Baja Recipes or How I Learned to Live in a Minivan

Several years ago my son Rob had suggested that I go to Baja with him. He talked about the beaches, mountains, and waters of the Pacific and the Sea of Cortez. He also talked about the other people that would be there, people of all ages and from all walks of life. I had just finished a long hike along the Eastern Seaboard of the United States that had occupied me the last several years, and I felt ready for something different.

Neither my son nor I are big money spenders, not having much to spend. But we have learned there is fun and adventure in the not so luxurious way of travel. We both value getting more up-close and personal with the flora, fauna, natives, as well as their cooking. I would never have driven to Mexico by myself, but thought going with my son was an opportunity. He had been spending winters there for seven or eight years by then. So I purchased a used minivan that spring, selling a Honda sedan that had been faithful to me since 1991, and began outfitting it for life on the road and at the beach.

I took out the large middle seat and one of the two back seats. I built a bed on a slab of wood in that area, exactly my length, leaving room for storage underneath and in the rear cargo area. These vans are often referred to as grocery getters, but I had a better idea. I then filled a number of plastic tubs with clothes, cooking stuff, dishes, eating utensils, groceries, and other miscellaneous items I thought I would need. For traveling, a large water container is necessary as well as Clorox for washing dishes in Mexico. I had as large a cooler as would fit inside the van. I hung small saddle bags over the seats for records and paper work I would need, hung earrings on the ceiling plus mosquito netting big enough for me to sit under for night reading. I also carried quite a few books. A roof top carrier held sporting equipment.

I planned to drive across country, seeing places I had not previously seen, and as usual, sleeping mostly in State or National Parks or other public lands. Rob and I planned on meeting in Utah where he has worked and has friends. We both had vehicles and I would follow him down the Baja peninsula. His vehicle was a used diesel ambulance.

I had many impressions as Rob and I headed down the Baja peninsula. First of all, Mexico is beautiful. Just as the large mountains of Quebec had impressed me, so was I impressed by the mountains of Mexico. They are much different in appearance but just as imposing. The mountains are high and rocky and interspersed with desert valleys. The roads were narrow with many hairpin curves. There were a lot of trucks on the highways, and their Jake brakes were constantly squealing as if to emphasize the precaution needed to navigate. I quickly learned that “peligroso” means dangerous, as in dangerous curves the next so many kilometers. It took me a while longer to learn that a “tope” was a speed bump and I best slow down.

When it got too dark to see, we pulled off on a secondary road and stayed there for the night. One morning after just waking up, a man came along side herding a few cows. It did not seem unusual to them to meet gringos who had obviously just spent the night. Rob always greeted them with “Buenos Dias,” which I did too as soon as I discovered what that meant. I was nervous at first, especially when a truck or carload of guys pulled off close to us. When I expressed this, Rob commented that I had a lot to learn. And I did. It wasn’t long before I felt comfortable with the people. The Mexican people were always very polite and I never saw anything remotely threatening (except the driving). I think language would have been a problem if an emergency had developed but even here Rob said someone would figure it out.

Several days later we passed through the town of ‘Todos Santos’ and were soon at the beach. Rob quickly found a parking spot, pulled in, and was immediately off to look for his friends. I realized I was on my own, and also found a spot a little further down the beach. I really didn’t know what to do, so just like my first night out on the Appalachian Trail, I tried to look like I knew what I was doing, and pulled a few things out of the van, like my cooler and a chair. As I looked around I saw the Pacific Ocean very close, a beach maybe fifty feet away, a number of vehicles parked in the area where we had stopped, and other four-wheel drive kinds, parked right next to the water. There were no bathroom facilities here, for that, you took your TP, shovel, and went off to find a private area. Not for everyone, I know.

I was amazed at the life style I discovered there. Most of the seasoned beach dwellers had trucks, of all kinds from conversion vans to bread trucks. Some people lived in small campers. A woman my age was living there that I could visit with during the day while most of the younger people were off surfing. Milly and I often took long walks on the beach, skinny dipped in some private places she knew. Occasionally we went into town and she showed me some of the crafts and beautiful paintings by local artists. At night we all gathered together, often having potluck meals with everyone donating something. There was a lot of story telling. Interesting to me were the stories my son was telling of some of his earlier exploits that I had not heard before.

I hadn’t realized what a good cook Rob was. I was embarrassed by my pantry, as I had no idea cooking would be so advanced on the beach. I had canned food, and bare bones pasta. These guys have ovens, spice collections, woks, sushi rice, fresh fruit and vegetables, and always avocadoes and cilantro. One morning, Rob baked cinnamon rolls, which he passed around. Milly had dried beans of all kinds, as well as many different grains she sent away for. Several of the surfers were also fishermen and one night one had a sushi party. Since we had just gone into town, I at least had wine to contribute to that. The least I could do was the dishes in an attempt to make up for my lack of culinary skills. I did a lot of dishes.

These are a few of the recipes I recorded:

Rob’s Guacamole Dip

Cut 2 avocadoes in half; remove pit (of course) and scoop from the casing and mash well. Add lime juice; squeeze garlic into it, cut-up one large tomato, and 1/2 onion. Also add cilantro. These ingredients were staples in his pantry.

Rob’s Enchiladas

Flour, oil, salt, water. He “eyeballs” it. Yes, he even made the tortilla.

For fillings, he used: diced tomatoes, diced onions, fresh grated cheese, rice, frijoles, Mexican sausage (right after a town stop), guacamole, and greens. The Mexican way is to serve all the fillings separately so people can choose their own combination.

Bud’s Salsa (he was one of the fisherman and served this with his fish).

Just mix it up. Bud covered his fish with mayonnaise, sprinkled it with fish spices, and then cooked it.

I have to insert one more recipe. This is the way Clark made his rice dish:

Clark’s Rice

Dice carrots, onions, and ginger very fine, slice mushrooms, and press some garlic, add turmeric, cumin, and a little cayenne pepper. Sauté this in olive and sesame oil, then add enough water to cook the veggies. Add peanut butter and coconut milk until the mixture is the desired thickness. Serve over rice. As you can see, Clark has a very complete kitchen. All I had was garlic powder and onion salt.

There were several other beach locations at which we spent time, adding up to two months in all. I had bathed in the ocean and washed my hair a few times in melted water from the cooler but had taken no shower during those two months. I had slept comfortably in the van, enjoyed the new people I had met, learned again how satisfying life can be with a minimum of possessions. I followed Rob back up the peninsula and felt sad when we parted shortly after crossing back into the States. I now felt comfortable with people in a different country, so much so that I repeated this trip with a friend several years later.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nancy Gowler

Nancy is 73 and happily lives alone in a small North Carolina mountain town. Life wasn’t always this way. In 1999 she broke free from a toxic marriage by deciding to hike the Appalachian Trail. The hike...read more